


Tomato Soup

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Mpreg, One Shot, Pregnancy Cravings, Protectiveness, Sweetness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 05:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16443743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: Draco has a midnight craving and it just can't wait.





	Tomato Soup

**Author's Note:**

> I found this languishing away in my G-docs! Totally forgot I wrote it. Please enjoy :)
> 
> Warning(s) for MPREG for those of you who don't read the tags.

_Tomato soup._

He was on the verge of sleep when the craving hit. Draco opened his eyes and sat up, one hand instinctively moving to brace his stomach. He was six months along and the growing weight around his belly was steadily becoming more uncomfortable. Really, it was a wonder he’d managed to sleep at all, he thought with a grimace.

_Soup. Now._

Draco groaned and stroked his belly again, not entirely sure if he was soothing his son or his stomach. It was ridiculous how much the cravings affected him, and at the worst of times, no less. It was the _middle of the night_ , for Salazar’s sake. Besides, it was October, and far too cold to get out of bed. No, he decided firmly. He was an adult, a grown man, and he wasn’t going to let his hormones dictate his life for the next three and a half months. He was _going to sleep_ and the soup could just wait until a more reasonable hour in the…

His stomach rumbled. Loudly and in protest.

“Shh!”

Draco flushed in mortification and turned his head. Next to him, Harry slept on undisturbed. He was snoring softly, head half buried under the pillows and a foot sticking out of the covers. Not a care in the world. Draco scowled and half considered poking him awake before stopping himself. No, that wouldn’t be right. Harry had been running himself ragged these past few weeks. What with work and the nursery and all the Healer appointments…he needed sleep. As much as he was tempted, Draco just couldn’t bring himself to wake him up and send him out in the cold for tomato soup, of all things.

Although…

Draco’s brow knitted, turning over a new idea in his head.

Maybe he didn’t have to _get_ the soup. He could just make it.

He was almost certain he knew a recipe. Yes, that’s right…he’d been watching one of those cooking shows on Harry’s telly box just yesterday. Come to think of it, maybe _that’s_ why he wanted soup.

Now that he had a way out of his predicament, Draco couldn’t let it go. He slipped out of bed— making sure to tuck the covers around his sleeping husband— and waddled carefully to the kitchen.

Right. Journey of a thousand miles and all that.

Draco bit his lip, suddenly unsure. He didn’t cook a lot. That was mostly Harry’s forte, but he had already decided against waking him up. Besides, it was just soup. He was about to bring a child into this world, after all, and if he couldn’t handle a measly bowl of soup…

With newfound determination, Draco marched to the fridge to fetch his ingredients. Tomatoes, obviously. They felt smooth and round in his hands as he retrieved them. Onions, next. Then garlic and…olive oil? Yes. And cream. And broth and…

He could visualise the soup now, he could see the ingredients coming together. It wasn’t that different from Potions, really. Draco smiled, enjoying the sudden anticipation building up in his stomach. In a burst of inspiration, he fetched some cheese and bread too. Toasties went well with soup, he decided. And now that he was in the thick of it, he realised he was starving. How could he have even imagined waiting until morning? He needed this soup in his life _now._

He halved the tomatoes with a quick spell, then set the knives to work on the onions and garlic. Of course, ideally he shouldn’t use magic while cooking or brewing (first rule of Potions, blah blah blah) but he was too hungry to play the purist right now. Besides, he was going to use the oven just like all the Muggles did so he refused to feel guilty about it.

The onions went in a sizzling pan, quickly followed by the sliced garlic and the tomatoes. By the time he seasoned the mix with salt, pepper, just a dash of sugar (to release the sweetness, that’s what the chef who swore a lot on the telly had said) and some balsamic vinegar, the aromas were wafting about the kitchen—delicious, comforting and so, so familiar. Draco smiled happily. The scent took him back to his winters at the Manor, when he was too little to be trusted to behave at formal dinners. Mother would send him to the kitchens instead, and let the house-elves fuss over him. Tomato soup was too plebeian a dish to make it to the Malfoy’s dining table, but for a four-year-old with a healthy appetite, it was the stuff of dreams.

Merlin, it had been _years_ since he’d felt this way about food.

“You are going to _love_ this,” he whispered, stroking a loving hand over his belly.

By the time he pulled the roasting pan out of the oven, the tomatoes had shrunk down and the roasted garlic was sizzling and spitting, releasing an overwhelming aroma. Merlin, he could barely stop himself from grabbing a fork and digging in. But it was nearly finished. Just a little longer for perfection.

He set the pan back on the stove, added the stock and started breaking up the tomatoes until they were nice and gooey. The mixture bubbled cheerfully and he added a dash of cream. It was almost perfect.

Just one more thing to do.

He had to support his cumbersome stomach again as he bent to retrieve the stick blender from the lower-most drawer. It scared him a little— he found it somewhat loud and violent for a kitchen appliance— but he had to admit it was handy. One good blitz and the soup would be all nice and smooth, an almost velvety texture…

Draco didn’t think twice before plugging it in and letting it come alive with a loud mechanical whirr.

“What the…Draco!”

Draco looked up in surprise, just in time to see Harry bursting in, robe askew, eyes wide and wand up.

Draco stared at his panicked husband, somewhat surprised.

“What are you doing up?” he yelled, over the roaring of the blender. “It’s the middle of the night!”

Harry shouted something back, but it was lost in the noise.

“What? I can’t hear you over the…oh.”

Draco blushed and switched the machine off. Merlin, how embarrassing. Harry’s expression was going from bewildered to amused before his eyes, and it just made him blush more.

“I said,” Harry repeated as he approached the chaotic scene, still smiling, “what on earth are you doing?”

Draco ducked his head. “Making soup?”

Harry’s grin widened and it made him scowl defensively.

“I had a craving, okay? If we go back far enough, I think you’ll find this is actually _your_ fault so…”

“I meant,” Harry cut him off, crowding into his space. His eyes were soft and affectionate as he ghosted a gentle hand over Draco’s stomach, “why didn’t you just wake me up?”

Draco hummed in contentment, letting strong, safe arms wrap around him. His head rested against Harry’s chest and he pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “You were sleeping,” he mumbled. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Well, that’s working out great so far,” Harry teased him, pressing a soft kiss to his head. He plucked the blender from Draco’s fingers. “Go on, take a seat. I’ll finish up in here.”

“I can do it myself,” Draco argued.

Harry just wrapped his arms around him tighter. “I know. But you don’t have to.”

Draco found himself being herded to the table, despite his feeble protests. In the end, he couldn’t sulk about it too much. As embarrassing as it was to admit, he…liked it when Harry took care of him. He felt so out of sorts these days, what with the hormones and his ever-changing body. But Harry’s steady presence was the one thing in his life he could always depend on.

So, he closed his eyes and let the sounds of Harry puttering about in the kitchen soothe him. A faint smile ghosted his lips as he cradled his stomach again. There was no telling what the future would bring but at least he knew he and his baby would have no dearth of love and affection.

“We’re very lucky, you and me,” he whispered softly.

Warm lips pressed a kiss to his temple. His eyes fluttered open, and Harry smiled at him. “Not as lucky as I am,” he whispered. He nudged Draco gently and drew his attention to the table.

Draco couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face when he saw it— a serving of rich, creamy tomato soup. Perfection in a bowl.

Except…

His smile faded to a pout.

“I knew I forgot something,” he sighed, making to get up.

Harry just shook his head fondly, setting a plate of cheese toasties on the table. “There,” he said, nudging Draco’s forehead with his. “All better?”

“I love you.”

The words were out before he’d even thought them through. It wasn’t like him, these spontaneous declarations of affection. Damn hormones. But the way Harry’s eyes lit up at the simple admission, it was more than worth it.

“You’re just saying that because I’m feeding you,” he teased. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”

Draco smiled and spooned some soup into his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut. Merlin, but it was perfect. Everything he’d wanted. Smooth, satisfying, just the slightest hint of tang and sweetness. It tasted like comfort and warmth.

Home.

When Draco looked up again, Harry was watching him, head tilted and smile soft. Like he was the most precious thing in the world. He sighed and leaned in. Soft fingers grazed his swelled stomach and warm lips pressed a kiss to his. Harry chuckled and flicked his tongue out, chasing the hint of soup from Draco’s lips.

“Good?” he asked softly.

Draco smiled back. “Perfect.”


End file.
